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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590267">Dance to a different tune</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialbyfic/pseuds/trialbyfic'>trialbyfic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>they are siblings (and they care for each other) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Crying, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jonny and Nastya are siblings, Sibling Bonding, aurora just wants her gf to take a break, my fics are like pasta, throw them at the wall and hope that they stick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:22:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialbyfic/pseuds/trialbyfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"My dear, please. Go take a break. You will feel better if you do."</p><p>"I'll feel better once I take care of this engine!" Nastya snaps. "Now, my Love," the pet name is strained and unfriendly as Nastya hisses it, "Leave me be to repair you."</p><p>Aurora's humming lowers, and- oh, shit. She's made Aurora angry.<br/>---<br/>Nastya needs some cheering up, and a break (and Jonny is there to provide).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonny d'Ville &amp; Nastya Rasputina, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>they are siblings (and they care for each other) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dance to a different tune</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>it's been a while since i've written a short one, huh? well. this is it. my softest mechs fic ever. gaze upon it in all of it's hellish glory </p><p>(though, this fic might be more painful if you've read the 2nd chapter of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999720/chapters/63212836">At the heart of the inferno,</a> so if you're missing that good good angst... you can curate it in your own mind with the Curse Of Knowledge)</p><p>CW's: just some implied gun violence from jonny. if i've missed any tags, please let me know!</p><p>title is part of a sentence in "Hades", from the Ulysses Dies At Dawn album! (did i search the mech's website for literally the only song with the word "dance" in it? maybe! i'll never tell.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nastya's hands shake in frustration as she grips her wrench, staring hopelessly into one of Aurora's minor engines. The engine had broken earlier that day, and Nastya has no idea how to fix it.</p><p> </p><p>She has blueprints on it, ones of her own making from when she'd first configured this machine, but she hadn't written a comprehensible guide alongside them. And so, time has long since wiped away her recollection of what the random lines, arrows, circles, and numbers meant.</p><p> </p><p>She's been working on it for several hours now, but it's only at this moment when she finally accepts that she has no clue what to do. The determination and ambition that has her jaw set square and her brow furrowed deeply suddenly turns sick and heavy in her throat, and warm, sticky tears spring from her eyes as her face falls.</p><p> </p><p>Nastya can't give up, though. She just can't. So she grits her teeth, swipes the back of her forearm over her now damp cheek and beard, and returns to her doomed attempts at fixing the damage.</p><p> </p><p>Her tank-top clings uncomfortably to her back, wet from her sweat, and her teeth tear skin from her cracked lips, dried from the countless amount of times she's run her tongue over it as she works. Her salty tears sting the constantly re-opened wounds on her lips, and she flinches from the pain.</p><p> </p><p>"Nastya," Aurora calls. Sitting this close to Aurora's engines as they hum and whirr is painful to Nastya's ears, but she doesn't care- just keeps working at the minor engine before her. "Nastya, you need to take a break."</p><p> </p><p>"I can't," Nastya says tiredly, sadly, her voice breaking. "I need- I need to finish this. I need to fix it."</p><p> </p><p>"My dear, please. Go take a break. You will feel better if you do."</p><p> </p><p>"I'll feel better once I take care of this engine!" Nastya snaps. "Now, my Love," the pet name is strained and unfriendly as Nastya hisses it, "Leave me be to repair you."</p><p> </p><p>Aurora's humming lowers, and- oh, shit. She's made Aurora angry.</p><p> </p><p>"I- I'm sorry. That was rude," Nastya quickly amends. "I'm... just let me... please?"</p><p> </p><p>Aurora's tune changes into exasperation mixed with worn concern. "No. No, I do not think I will."</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>A wire unfurls from the ceiling and wraps itself around Nastya's wrists, pulling her hands away from the engine.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey!" Nastya huffs, affronted. "Let me go!"</p><p> </p><p>"You will not be able to gain any progress if you work while overly frustrated. You know this."</p><p> </p><p>"But, I can't- Aurora, no-"</p><p> </p><p>"Aurora, yes," Aurora retorts, and a larger cable, snaking in from the now open door to the Engine room, descends to hook itself around Nastya's waist, and begins to drag her out.</p><p> </p><p>"No! No, no, stop, I need to- I need-!" The wire around Nastya's wrists has gone now, left behind with the minor engine, so Nastya tries to pry the cable off of her waist. But it doesn't relent, and before she knows it, she's been locked outside of the closed Engine room doors.</p><p> </p><p>"No..." Nastya whines quietly, thumping her palm defeatedly on the door. "Please. Please let me try again, Aurora."</p><p> </p><p>"Go. Take. A. Break." Aurora says sternly. "Distract yourself. Go have fun. Then come back. We will talk again once you have done so." And with that, the vibrancy of Aurora's idle melodies that gave linguistic meaning to the sounds fades away, and all is left is the purely functional, mechanical noises of her systems.</p><p> </p><p>Nastya's hand slips from the door, and she falls to her knees. Such a small struggle shouldn't be causing her this much grief, she thinks, but if there's one thing that Nastya likes about herself, it's her perseverance and determination (even if it sometimes borders on hubris). So, without that... how good is she, really?</p><p> </p><p>Nastya shakes her head and twists around to slump exhausted against the wall. It wouldn't be helpful to start talking down to herself now- it's not as if the right amount of harsh words will suddenly slot the pieces into place, and she'll magically realize what she was failing to do.</p><p> </p><p>But, still. It hurts that she can't fix that engine as easily and as quickly as she wants to, and her head lolls to the side as tears continue to fall freely from her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>From a nearby room- Tim's room, Nastya identifies- she can hear a song blaring from some speakers. She's heard Tim play the song before, and she recalls it as being an ancient Earth classic, as it details the emotional relations and physical engagements of two pickup trucks. It's a strange thing to delve into for a song topic, Nastya thinks, but Tim seems to like it regardless.</p><p> </p><p>"Two trucks, holding hands!" The singer's wall-muffled voice echoes loudly through the halls, "Two trucks, holding hands! The passion, the passion-"</p><p> </p><p>Then, the sound of a door being kicked in, some shouting, gunfire, and the song is no more. She figures that Tim is no more for the time being, as well.</p><p> </p><p>It's Jonny that leaves Tim's room, which Nastya can tell by the distinct clunk of his boots, and the slight rattle of his numerous belt buckles. The footsteps seem to be approching her direction, though, so she quickly curls into a circle on the floor, facing the wall. Maybe if she looks pitiful enough, Nastya reasons, he'll leave her alone. She doesn't feel like being shot, right now.</p><p> </p><p>Jonny enters the hallway in front of the Engine room doors, but then he pauses, and Nastya can feel eyes on her back.</p><p> </p><p>"What's up with you?" He says bluntly, roughly.</p><p> </p><p>Aiming to incite pity as she planned, Nastya lets out a weak, wavering whine of sadness, intermixed with indecipherable and mumbled syllables. (Please walk away, she thinks inwardly. Please allow her to wallow in her disappointment alone.)</p><p> </p><p>Instead of going away like she'd hoped, Jonny comes closer to Nastya, kneels down, and with a hand on her shoulder, turns her from her side onto her back to face him.</p><p> </p><p>Nastya looks anywhere but his face, and sniffles miserably. It isn't for pity, anymore- she really is just this sad.</p><p> </p><p>"What? Why are you crying? Did you get into another fight with Aurora?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not quite," Nastya admits, "I just- I can't- I need- mmm," she breaks off into a complaining hum, and tries to roll back onto her side. Jonny stops her by keeping his hand on her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>He goes quiet for a moment, then he stands back up, and tugs at Nastya's arms. "Alright. No more moping," he says decisively. "Come on, up you get."</p><p> </p><p>"Why?" Nastya says in a bitter pout, even though she begins to stand up too.</p><p> </p><p>"I can't leave you her sniffling and quivering in good conscious. I have an idea."</p><p> </p><p>"Haven't you said before that don't have a conscious-?"</p><p> </p><p>"-Oh, just trust me!" He sighs, and for the second time that day, Nastya is dragged along as he brings her to an unused room and closes the door behind them.</p><p> </p><p>He directs her to stand in the center of the room, then takes step back and looks up at her, his mouth twisting into a line as he thinks.</p><p> </p><p>"What are we doing here?" Nastya asks tiredly.</p><p> </p><p>"I am going to teach you... to dance!" He says, with a dramatic flourish and spread of his arms, and it almost makes her smile. Almost.</p><p> </p><p>"Hm. What sort of dance?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's just an easy sort of Two Step, from New Texas. You're a quick learner, you'll get it in no time.</p><p> </p><p>"But, why are we dancing?"</p><p> </p><p>"Once, when I was younger, my father spent weeks teaching me two-person dances. He kept swearing that I'd need them one day. I didn't, but I'm too petty to let that time go to waste. So, here we are! I'm going to teach you the basic feet movements, first."</p><p> </p><p>The motions are easy as he holds her hands and guides the speed of her footing across the floor, and Nastya has the rhythm down in no time. But without her complete attention being needed, her mind is allowed to wander away from the present to back to the engine.</p><p> </p><p>What was she doing wrong? Why wouldn't it work? Why didn't she write better blueprints? What if she never figures it out? She should be back working on it right now. She's supposed to be determined. She's supposed to be smart. She's supposed to be able to understand it. Supposed to, supposed to, supposed to.</p><p> </p><p>But she can't, and the tears that had begun to dry make a quiet reappearance as they trail slowly down her cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>Jonny, with his eyes on Nastya's feet and the floor, doesn't notice it at first. But when he does, he stops their stride to pat his hand lightly on Nastya's cheek.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, hey, no, none of that. We're dancing right now. Dancing time is not crying time."</p><p> </p><p>Nastya sniffles and nods, trying to will the tears to stop and blinking quickly. He changes their movements then, as he begins to teach her increasingly complex moves- promenade and turns, then wraps and the sweetheart, then weaves. With Nastya's attention and focus now being forced to the forefront, her thoughts no longer have time to drift away.</p><p> </p><p>It's slightly challenging, as Jonny insists on leading the dances, despite him being shorter than Nastya. ("I didn't learn them any other way!", he defends). He has to bounce up to his tip-toes to turn her, but he does it without complaint. In fact, he seems to be enjoying himself. And honestly, Nastya is too, as her exhausted frown gradually shifts into a light smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Right!" Jonny says, after about an hour's worth of learning, "I think you've got it all down. So now is time for... some actual fucking music to dance to."</p><p> </p><p>He looks around the room, and spots one of their High Noon Over Camelot CDs, (Earth's preferred method of data compaction at the current time,) and a CD player.</p><p> </p><p>"Hm, what's a good tempo..." He mutters to himself as he skips past the songs. "Blood and Whiskey gets too fast later on... Brian's song is too slow... ah!" When he steps away from the player, the wobbly synth-esque sounds of Hellfire are emanating from the speakers.</p><p> </p><p>Nastya raises an eyebrow. "Doesn't this one get faster toward the end, as well?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not as much as Blood and Whiskey. It's just 117 beats per minute." He takes Nastya's hands, and begins to lead. Their dancing is quick, and he says what moves he's about to do only a split second before he does them, leaving Nastya very little time to prepare. But judging by the way Jonny grins proudly, she thinks that she's doing just fine.</p><p> </p><p>Her ponytail swishes behind her head as she spins, and her coat tied around her waist swooshes almost like a dress. Her movements are sure and stable, and the vent-cooled air rushing past her and into her lungs is a refreshing constrast to the stifling warmth of the engine room.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh that fire, that fire, that, Hellfire!" Jonny's and the crew's voices shout from the tinny player speakers, "At the heart of the inferno that will never tire! I've seen the end is nigh, and damnation's nigher-!"</p><p> </p><p>Nastya isn't certain how many circles they make around the room before the song ends, but when it does, Jonny abruptly and dramatically dips her. The suddeness of it makes her burst into a bout of genuinely elated giggles, and when he finally tips her back up, they're both wearing wide grins, and Nastya sighs happily.</p><p> </p><p>"Have your petty needs been fulfilled?" She asks, with zero heat to the words.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, that was just one of the dances. There's plenty more he taught me that I still have lots of pettiness for."</p><p> </p><p>"This... this was fun," Nastya says, and the open honesty behind her words seems to have them both shocked, as Nastya's mind trips itself into freezing for a second, and Jonny's eyebrows shoot up. But she soon regains control over her words, and presses on. "If you'd like to put that time spent learning them to use, we could do this again, sometime."</p><p> </p><p>Jonny's eyebrows somehow raise even further, but he doesn't question her- just nods and says, "Well! I know where to find you, if I do. Uh, I know most times, anyway. Actually, not most times-? You know, hide too damn often."</p><p> </p><p>Nastya shrugs. "Hiding is another fun thing. Secrets are what make a person whole, for better or worse."</p><p> </p><p>"Cool, that's not ominous at all," Jonny says sarcastically, and he pats Nastya's shoulder twice before he leaves the room. "I think I'll leave you to your cryptic meanderings now. Later, Nastya."</p><p> </p><p>"Goodbye, Jonny."</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Nastya returns to the engines the next day, having been worn enough from her tears and the dancing to go straight to bed after she and Jonny had parted ways for the day.</p><p> </p><p>The minor engine, it turns out, was not as difficult to figure out as she had thought. In fact, it was a simple, nearly beginner solution, and she feels slightly embarrased by how she'd overlooked it.</p><p> </p><p>"Do not be embarrased, my love," Aurora says softly. "It is impressive enough that you managed to understand it without proper blueprints."</p><p> </p><p>"I suppose," Nastya sighs.</p><p> </p><p>"I am proud of you, Nastya. Please know this."</p><p> </p><p>Nastya can feel her face heat up in a blush, and then she smiles. "Thank you, Aurora."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>is this very self indulgent? yes. did i write it to stop my crying after goofing up some measurements in my schematics on the aurora? yes. will i tell you what i goofed up? maybe, if you ask nicely.</p><p>i'm on tumblr at <a href="https://orangezinnia.tumblr.com">orangezinnia,</a> and if i can ever decisively figure out how numbers work, that's where i'll be posting said schematics (probably not too soon, though. i've already been at this for 11 days, and i'm only just approaching 2/3rds done).</p><p>im running out of ways to say that i love comments so please &lt;3 please i adore comments they're very cool to read &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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